“What?” he said, his head spinning back to look at her. “What’d you say?” he demanded.
“Tracey, go home.”
His head popped up and his eyes locked on Mary.
“What?”
“Go home, Tracey,” Mary said again as she walked toward him.
“What the hell’s going on around here, Mary? Why are all these people here?”
She didn’t answer. The silence lingered for a few seconds, and then Tracey, apparently tired of waiting, said, “Fuck that,” his anger rising. “I drove all the way down here from Lynnwood. I’ll go home when I’m good and goddamn ready.”
Doc stood up at the same time I started walking toward Tracey.
“Hey,” I called out. “Big guy.”
He turned and looked at me. “You know, I didn’t like it the last time you called me that, Mr. Private Investigator. And I don’t like it now. What do you want?”
“Sorry about that,” I said, smiling. “I’m not trying to piss you off.” I was nearly to him now. I stopped and leaned toward him and spoke quietly. “If you want to know the truth, I’m actually trying to save you.”
“Save me? From what?” he asked, derisively.
“I’m trying to save a big guy like you from getting his ass kicked in public by a woman maybe half your size.” I nodded toward Toni. She was about an eighth of a second away from going nuclear and dropping this asshole, right there in the waiting room. As it was, I halfway expected to see a Doc Marten come flying through the air any second, aimed right at his nose. “She’s really pissed.”
“Fuck that,” he said. “Why’s everyone so pissed at me, anyway? What’d I do?”
“Really?” I said. He’d have been better off following Mary’s advice and leaving. Now I was getting pissed, too. “You’re going to stand there and say ‘what’d I do’ when your stepdaughter is inside there, fighting for her life?” I said. “You’re a real piece of work.”
“Fuck you, buddy,” he said. “I don’t care what you think.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” I said. “But when all’s said and done, everyone knows you’re the reason Isabel’s lying in there on a hospital bed. Turns out, big strong guy like you-you’ve got a thing for little girls, right?”
Fuck that. I was pissed.
So was he. His eyes were filled with anger now. Good.
“And Isabel was right there, right? Every night when you got home, right? You’re one sick bastard, big guy.” We stood staring at each other, each hating the other. I was aware that he was two inches taller than I was and maybe fifty pounds heavier.
“Is that right?” he said, puffing himself up even further. “Who’s going to stop me? You?” He nodded toward Toni. “Her?”
“They won’t need to.”
Everyone turned and looked at the new voice. Nancy Stewart had just walked out of the swinging doors that led to the recovery room. Tyrone Allison and two uniformed officers flanked her. Tyrone had a big white bandage taped to his scalp. At the same time, three hospital security guards rounded the corner and entered the room from the main entrance. “Tracey Allen Webber,” Nancy said, walking up to us. “My name is Lieutenant Nancy Stewart, Seattle Police Department Vice and High Risk Victims Unit.” She held up her badge. “I’m placing you under arrest for second-degree rape, statutory rape, child endangerment-and whatever else I can think of to charge you with.”
Tracey looked at her, stunned. “What?” he said. “That’s bullshit.”
“Nope,” she said, “It’s real. Why don’t you go ahead and turn around and put your hands on the wall.”
He stared at her but didn’t move.
“Now!” she said, using her command voice.
This time, he complied.
“Read him his rights, Ty,” she said, as she patted him down and put handcuffs on him. When Ty was through, she turned Tracey around.
“This is bullshit,” he said again. “I never touched her.”
“We’ve been talking to her for the past forty-five minutes,” Nancy said. “She’s a very sick girl, but she managed to tell us everything. Every sordid detail-right down to your so-called birthday present and her decision to run.”
Mary let out a sob. “You bastard!” she screamed.
“She’s lying,” Tracey said. “She’s sixteen years old. She’s full of stories.”
“Really?” Nancy walked right up to him. Nancy is maybe five four, and Webber is six four or so. Nancy stopped just far enough away so that she could look up at him. “You listen to me, you ignorant piece of human excrement,” she said. “That girl ran away from you-her stepfather-because you repeatedly raped her. You were supposed to be someone she could trust. Instead, you violated her in the worst way possible. So she ran. And she ended up with people who were at least as bad as you-maybe even worse, if that’s possible. When she refused to put herself on the street and sell her body for them, they beat her up. Donnie Martin beat her with a hose. He kicked her in the stomach over and over until she lost consciousness. He kicked her so hard, he ruptured her spleen.” She paused. She was steaming mad. “And he kicked her so hard that she lost the baby she was carrying.”
Oh my God. I glanced over at Mary. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. Everyone else’s eyes, mine included, were wide open, stunned. The entire room was frozen.
“That’s right,” Nancy continued. “Little Isabel-all ninety-eight pounds of her-was almost three months pregnant. And for the last week, since Donnie Martin almost beat her to death, she’s been carrying a dead fetus in her body. And you know what that means, right?”
He looked at her with a dull expression.
“That means that we have a DNA source, asshole. We’re going to match up the DNA from the fetus to a sample that you’re going to give us. And what do you think we’re going to find? What do you think it’s going to tell us about who the father of that baby was? And since Isabel was three months pregnant yet only turned sixteen last month, it means she was underage at conception. Face it, buddy. You need to pack your bags. You’re going on a little trip.”
He stared at her for a moment more, and then he dropped his eyes. Julia put her arm around Mary as she sobbed openly while Tracey was led away.
PART 4
Chapter 31
My mom and dad saw the news coverage that evening, and before we’d even left the hospital, my phone started ringing. They were worried about me-I had to work hard to convince my mom that I was alright. In the end, we agreed to move my birthday dinner to the following week. I needed a little downtime. I’m lucky. I have people who care-always have. I thought about this in contrast to poor Isabel. Obviously, not everyone’s as fortunate as I’ve been.
Toni stayed with me at my apartment that night after we left the hospital. We didn’t do much of anything- mostly just talked a little, drank a few beers, listened to music, and watched the boats out on the lake. Except for talking about our concern for Isabel, the other events of the day never even came up. But the quiet, the relaxation were just what I needed as I came to grips with the shooting of Donnie Martin. She stayed with me that night and
